


Fading Light

by Dokuhan



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Family Drama, Family Secrets, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-World War II, Riding, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Romantic Tension, post episode 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10423665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dokuhan/pseuds/Dokuhan
Summary: And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe Hatano had a point about him being obsessed. It wasn’t like they were lovers, or that they ever would have become so. The two of them had just spent a night together, and left it on the hanging implication that maybe it would happen again when they reunited.--In which Sakuma doesn't know how to deal with his new position in life, so he tries to play detective.





	1. August 1939

Summers were already hot and sticky in Japan, they were just horrible when he was in full uniform, and even worse in a three piece suit.

Those summer days, Sakuma wondered just how much longer he was going to wear the latter. How much longer would it be until becoming a liaison to D-Agency became less important than being a soldier fighting for his country? When would Mutou call him into his office, demand that he cut his hair, get in his uniform, and ship him off to help ensure Japan’s dominance in the Pacific? After all, he was a solider first, and everything else second.

Maybe that mindset is what eventually dragged him into the momentary impulsivity that followed him that night. He’d been brought into Mutou’s office earlier that afternoon, certain it would be the meeting that said “pack your things, you’re going to Manchuria”, but it hadn’t come. There had just been the usual questions, maybe a bit of prodding about his opinions (which he skillfully kept to himself), and it was over. It still managed to needle into the back of his mind and made doing his usual deskwork take much longer than it usually would. So, of course, he wound up leaving work long after sunset.

The streets seemed near deserted when he walked out, quiet with only a few scattered lights illuminating half empty restaurants and closing storefronts. They faded into the background as he turned a corner, taking one of the alleys that cut his route back to the barracks in half.

It was just he and himself, alone.

At least, that’s what he thought.

“Working late tonight, Sakuma-san?”

Just a few months before, being snuck up on like that would have triggered a different reaction. Sakuma knew better though. He might have still tensed up, but he didn’t go immediately into fight mode. Instead he looked over his shoulder, giving the owner of the voice an unamused look, “How long have you been following me, Miyoshi?”

Miyoshi didn’t look pulsed, “Long enough, one would think you would be more observant by now.”

“I’m not a spy, I don’t share the same training as you.”

“Details, details – surely the great lieutenant would have picked _something_ up.”

“Do you need something, or did you just follow me to be a pest?”

“A pest? Me? _Never_ , Sakuma-san. Why on Earth would I do that?” He had a goddamn smirk on his face, and Sakuma bet that that was exactly why Miyoshi had decided to follow him. “As for something I need,” he took a few steps closer, “I’m not sure if you’d be willing to give it up.”

For a solid five seconds, it crossed his mind that Miyoshi was actually going to kill him. He was just going to toss out the first two D-Agency rules and snap Sakuma’s neck right then and there. Why? Who knows. For those few moments, he seemed completely menacing.

His senses caught up with him pretty quickly, because Miyoshi would never jeopardize his integrity as a spy. Sakuma stood his ground. “Oh? Try me.”

Miyoshi stepped closer and put a hand on his chest, wrapping his fingers tightly around the lapel of Sakumas shirt. “Well, if you insist.” With far too much force, he practically _threw_ Sakuma against one of the brick walls surrounding them.

He took the full brunt of it with his shoulder, “Miyoshi! What the hell was–” before he could finish, Miyoshi’s hand was on him again, turning him so his back was flat against the wall. Their lips were pressed together forcefully.

His first instinct was to push Miyoshi away, not so much out of disgust, but for his fear of being caught and the possibility that this was a setup for some complicated joke. But he just felt so _okay_ with the situation that he couldn’t even be bothered to follow through. So, he went with his second instinct.

Sakuma opened his mouth just enough to experimentally run his tongue along Miyoshi’s bottom lip, asking for entrance. He could feel the hint of a smirk before the other mouth opened up. The hand holding him in place became more insistent, pushing him farther and he took this as an invitation to take his own initiative.

He grabbed at Miyoshi’s hips, pulling him closer before sliding them back to grab what had to be the best ass he’d ever had the pleasure of holding. Sakuma certainly wasn’t inexperienced and had his pick of women in the past, but at that moment nothing compared to what Miyoshi had.

In an ideal world he could have stayed there for hours, focused only on their kiss and the material of Miyoshi’s suit pants on his hands. But breathing through his nose only proved helpful for so long and he had to break away. He leaned his head back, gasping for air so he could refill his lungs.

Miyoshi turned his attention elsewhere, nipping at the high point of his neck just below his jawline. “Do you have somewhere we can go?”

“I live at the military’s dormitory when I’m not required to stay at the agency, so no.”

“Might I make a suggestion then?”

* * *

It wasn’t like Sakuma had never visited the red light district before, he’d just never made a habit of it. At least, not enough of a habit to know the location of a brothel that turned a blind eye to two men coming alone in the early hours of the evening.

The room was small and dimly lit, reeking of old smoke and various other smells, thankfully muted by the breeze that came through the open window. Two futons were already laid out, left there by whom and for how long remained a mystery.

Miyoshi pulled something out of his inside pocket, tossing it somewhere towards the futons before removing his blazer entirely and letting it fall to the floor. He arched his eyebrow and stood there, as if waiting to see who would make the first move.

Sakuma removed his own blazer. “How do you want to do this?”

“I assume you want to be on top, but I think you’ll find the experience a lot better if I take the lead.” He loosened his tie, and something about it just seemed _challenging_.  

Like hell he was going to allow that to happen, especially after the incident in the alleyway. He still had his dignity after all and he refused to be led around like some kind of pet. He was going to have just as much say as anybody else.

With no pretense, he grabbed Miyoshi’s wrist and pulled him forward into a kiss that was definitely more teeth than anything else. He hoped it hurt. He hoped it left bruises that lasted for days afterwards. He hoped whatever smug look Miyoshi had would instantly wipe away whenever he glimpsed at them.

Unfortunately Miyoshi was too good for that and responded with just as much enthusiasm. His free hand reached up and tugged at Sakuma’s hair, pulling so hard that he was afraid there would be patches missing.

Sakuma pushed forward, knocking them both to the ground with a loud bang. Somehow, the action had managed to knock the wind out of him, but Miyoshi seemed unaffected. He flipped their positions, so he was straddling Sakuma’s waist.

He pulled his own wrist free, leaving his hands free to pin Sakuma’s arms above his head, “I’m not going to give up that easily,” he rolled his hips, “I already said you could be on top, I’m just going to be the one in control.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Tempting.” He rolled his hips again, this time making it a point to go extra slow when their erections brushed against each other, “What should I do first…” he wondered aloud as he leered down.

His left hand kept Sakuma’s wrists in place and his right hand traveled down his chest, slowly undoing the buttons on Sakuma’s vest.  He reached under the tie to start undoing the shirt buttons afterwards.

“At least undo my tie first, you asshole.”

“But, Sakuma-san, what will I grab onto?”

“Ryuunosuke.”

That made Miyoshi pause. He looked him in the eyes, genuinely curious, “I beg your pardon?”

“If we’re going to do this, you can at least have the decency to call me by my first name.”

That garnered a strange look, before Miyoshi chuckled and shook his head, “You’d make a terrible spy.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not a spy then. I’m a soldier.”

While all he got was a disinterested hum in return, it seemed to be enough for Miyoshi to undo Sakuma’s tie before finishing with his shirt. He reached underneath the fabric of his undershirt and ran his hand along every bit of skin and muscle he could reach, almost as if he was studying him. His thumb rolled against a nipple in small circular motions, “It doesn’t really suit you.”

“Well, it was my name before I joined the military, so…”

“That doesn’t mean it suits you.”

“I guess that’s true…” He brought one of his legs up to throw Miyoshi off balance and flipped them over again. “Aren’t _you_ a terrible spy for getting distracted so easily?”

“You’re saying that like I don’t _want_ to be in this situation. And I’m not on a mission right now, so what does it matter?”

Sakuma rolled his eyes as he shrugged off his shirt and vest, before taking his undershirt off as well. No matter what he said, Miyoshi was just going to try getting the last word in anyway, so there really wasn’t much of a point. He could only take whatever he could get.

He immediately went for Miyoshi’s belt, making quick work of it and the buttons. “Lift up your hips,” he growled, as he tried to pull them down.

“Aren’t you skipping a few steps?” Miyoshi taunted, but complied anyway, letting Sakuma bring his pants and underwear down just a bit past his hips.

“It’s a little too late to go to dinner first.” He licked a long stripe along the vein of Miyoshi’s dick, stopping to leave a sucking kiss against the tip. “Unless you want to stop now,” he mumbled as he pulled away.

Miyoshi’s hand found its way back into Sakuma’s hair and he made a small thrust towards his face. “Not on your life, Sakuma-san,” he scoffed and pulled Sakuma’s head closer. “I’m sorry, I mean _Ryuunosuke_.”

Sakuma didn’t waste any time, not with that invitation. He hollowed out his cheeks and took as much of Miyoshi in as he could, trying to imitate an action that been performed on him only a few times in the past. His head bobbed up and down, guided just a bit by Miyoshi’s hand in his hair. He probably could have gone further, but he was far too worried about triggering his gag reflex.

Above him Miyoshi goaded him on, making slightly snippy comments about the job he was doing and how he needed to up his pace. Once in awhile though, he would let out a sharp gasp or his grip would tighten a little, giving away that Sakuma was actually doing a halfway decent job.

He pulled away, mouthing at the side of Miyoshi’s erection. He looked up and asked, “Did you bring something I can use?”

Miyoshi clicked his tongue and removed his hand from Sakuma’s hair, “Please, like I would invite you and come unprepared.” He reached over for the small jar he’d tossed from his pocket earlier and handed it over, “It’s not the best, but it’ll work for now.”

He scooped a bit of the substance onto one of his fingers and hooked Miyoshi’s leg over one of his arms. He tried to press it inside.

“Not like that! You have to go slow! You didn’t even warm it up. You have no idea what you’re doing.” He huffed and grabbed the jar, “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Miyoshi untangled himself from Sakuma and pushed him back a bit before scooting further up. He bent his knees and spread his legs, exposing himself, “Honestly, it’s no wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” He scooped some of the substance from the jar and rubbed his fingers together.

Sakuma was a little entranced by the scene, his eyes moving back and forth between Miyoshi’s fingers and his ass. Still, he found himself muttering, “How do you know I don’t have a girlfriend?”

The look Miyoshi gave him said it all. Right. Spy. He knew everything. Whatever.

His eyes followed Miyoshi’s hand as it moved down to his entrance, slowly circling around the muscle.  He slowly, carefully pressed the first finger in, exhaling as it went through. With the same pace, it pumped in and out. Miyoshi’s eyes fluttered closed, “See, you have to,” his breath hitched as he pressed a second finger in, “go slow.”

Miyoshi’s fingers scissored inside himself and Sakuma’s mouth started to go dry. His fingers itched to do something, anything really, but he knew if he interrupted, Miyoshi would just make another fuss. When the third finger pressed inside, he had to give his own erection a squeeze so he wouldn’t come from the sight.

“Aren’t you going to help?”

Sakuma didn’t have to be asked twice. He leaned over and kissed Miyoshi again, this time more unhurried than the one that put them on the floor. He pulled away and nipped at his jawline, reaching down to press two of his own fingers alongside Miyoshi’s.

“Ah! I said go _slow_ ,” he protested, but still rocked his hips down.

“Just making sure you can handle it,” Sakuma pumped his fingers experimentally before pulling them out, rubbing whatever lubrication was left onto Miyoshi’s leg. “Take your fingers out and finish getting undressed.”

When Miyoshi did remove his fingers, it was a bit of a surprise. He reached up and started undoing the buttons on his vest. While that was going on, Sakuma saw it as the perfect opportunity to shuck off the rest of his own clothes.

He had his back turned only for a second, just so he could throw his pants, underwear, and socks into some corner of the room. Before he knew it though, there was a hand on his shoulder and Miyoshi was whispering in his ear.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

Once again Sakuma found himself on his back with Miyoshi hovering over him. He balanced himself with his hands on Sakuma’s stomach, letting himself sink down on his erection. And just that in and of itself was a sight to behold. Miyoshi was usually so smug and collected but at that moment he was sweating and shaking as he adjusted to the length and girth inside of him. His eyes were screwed shut and his bottom lip was trapped under his teeth as he tried to muffle whatever noises that wanted to come out. He rolled his hips to get the idea, before lifting up and lowering them experimentally. He let out a long sigh and continued his ministrations, fucking himself on Sakuma’s dick like he wasn’t even an integral part of the process.

“Having fun?”

“I guess,” Miyoshi smirked, running his hands up Sakuma’s stomach and chest. “You can touch too, you know.”

“You just want another opportunity to tell me I’m doing something wrong.” Still, he brought his hand up to Miyoshi’s cheek, tracing his thumb along Miyoshi’s bottom lip.

“Hm, maybe…” his tongue poked out, stroking along Sakuma’s thumb before taking it into his mouth and lightly sucking.

Sakuma swallowed at nothing, just drinking in the entire image as it played out. His hips gently rocked as they tried to meet Miyoshi’s, just barely missing the rhythm. It was infuriating.

After a while, he couldn’t bear it anymore. He took his hand from Miyoshi’s mouth and placed both hands on his hips, stopping the motion. He gently pulled out, eliciting an offended noise from Miyoshi. “I think we need a change of pace.”

Flipping Miyoshi back onto his back was surprisingly easy. Sakuma wasn’t sure if he was just pliant from having his way for a little bit, or because he wanted to see what Sakuma had to offer, either way he easily locked his legs around Sakuma’s waist.

Sakuma thrust back in roughly, practically bending Miyoshi in half as he moved forward. His hips snapped harshly and their skin made a disgusting sound as it slapped together, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He reached down to grab at Miyoshi’s erection, pumping it in time to the beat _he_ had set up and could actually follow.

Whatever he was doing had to be right, since Miyoshi’s nails were digging into his skin and he’d bitten down harshly on Sakuma’s shoulder to drown out the noises he couldn’t control. There would be lots of marks and bruises on the both of them the next day, but only one of them actually had the skills to hide them.

Miyoshi came first, a fact Sakuma couldn’t help but feel a little smug about. It had been a rush, and he’d probably drawn some blood with how hard his teeth had pressed into Sakuma’s skin. Sure he couldn’t hide that, but at least he’d be the one with bragging rights.

It had felt _so good_ , though, when his insides tightened around Sakuma. He pressed as far in as he could, hips shaking as he emptied himself inside. It was different from being with a woman, and having to be careful – it felt like something more complete.

They flopped against each other, panting and gulping air down as if they had been drowning in the ocean. Sakuma slid out of Miyoshi, his dick soft and wet which felt a little bit disgusting. Miyoshi pushed him off and moved over to his blazer, pulling out a handkerchief so he could wipe up the mess dripping out of him. Sakuma quickly followed his lead and grabbed his own handkerchief.

When they were as cleaned up as they could get in their current situation, Sakuma pulled out the pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his suit. He pulled two out before putting the rest away. Miyoshi placed one in his mouth and leaned in, waiting for a light. Figuring he could kill two birds with one stone, Sakuma put the other in his mouth and leaned close so he could light them both together.

“Look at you, showing off.” Miyoshi exhaled a puff of smoke and stretched languidly, almost like a cat, which was kind of ironic. He made his way over to the window and leaned against the sill, not watching anything in particular.

Sakuma took another drag and asked, “So, what was tonight about?”

“Can’t I just want to have a good time? You were available, you responded, so we had sex. That’s really it.”

“I think it’s something more than that.”

“Oh please, I already told you you’d make a terrible spy. Don’t think you can go halfway by playing detective.”

“I don’t think I need to play games to know that something’s on your mind.” He made his way over, standing on the other side of the window to watch from the side.

Miyoshi’s face was one of casual annoyance, but he still relented as brought the cigarette back up to his lips, “I’m going on a mission for a while.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you that and you know it. It’ll probably be for a few years though, there’s a lot to be done.”

“Oh, right…” he flicked some ash out the window. “I guess this was kind of a last hurrah then?”

“Who knows. Like I said, I just wanted to have a good time.”

“And you only just happened to find yourself at headquarters.”

“Of course.”

“Hm,” Sakuma let a second pass and took another puff from his cigarette. As he exhaled he asked, “Do you think we could do it again, when you come back? You’ll probably deserve a welcome home.”

“That’s assuming you don’t get sent off to fight and die.”

“I’ll do my best not to.”

“We’ll see. If you stay alive, maybe we’ll talk.”

It was quiet between the two of them for a bit. It gave Sakuma a chance to process and think with a clear head. He had seen a lot of stunning images that night, ones that would stick out in his fantasies for a long time. In that moment though, he saw the one that would stand in his mind forever: Miyoshi’s silhouette in the window, his hair a mess and moonlight illuminating his bare skin, a distant look on his face, and a cigarette hanging between his long fingers.  He wished cameras were more accessible so he could capture the moment and keep it with him in his pocket.

He wondered if years down the line, he would see that moment as the start of their story together.

He tossed his cigarette out the window and moved behind Miyoshi. Sakuma’s fingers traced along his sides and he placed a soft kiss against the back of his neck.

“We really shouldn’t stay here all night…”

He kissed his shoulder, “Just one more time, Miyoshi. I want to make it slow.”

Miyoshi sighed and put out his cigarette on the sill. “Akimitsu.”

“What?”

He tossed what remained out the window, “You said you wanted me to call you by your first name, so you might as well call me by my real name. It’s Akimitsu.”

It probably was some kind of act, Sakuma figured. Of course Miyoshi wouldn’t _really_ tell his _real_ name. Especially since that person didn’t technically exist anymore. He was probably playing along in whatever game he made up in his head just to make Sakuma feel a little better. If “Akimitsu” was the character Miyoshi wanted to play for the night, then that was fine. He could play along for a little while.

He took Miyoshi’s chin in his hand, pulling him into a kiss. It was slow and sweet and probably just a bit out of character, but in that moment it felt appropriate. He needed to do whatever he could to preserve the moment. “Okay, one more time, Akimitsu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like...I actually started this right after Episode 11 but it got totally out of hand and wound up ballooning to 13k/38 pages and I got stuck around two-thirds of the way. Kill me. 
> 
> A lot of this is self indulgent and it's not *really* a mystery, but more Sakuma not knowing how to mourn and learning a little bit along the way. Like, it's gonna be a lot more stuff implied than actually said. 
> 
> Don't worry though, it's all done so I'm probs posting a chapter a day.


	2. December 1945

Something about that winter seemed colder than others. No matter how tightly he pulled his jacket against his body, it still felt like the wind was rushing through him at every angle.

War had not been friendly to Sakuma, that much was certain.  While he had managed to avoid fighting in Manchuria, as the tensions escalated and war had became an imminent fate he wasn’t able avoid the front lines for very long.

He was sent to the Philippines not too long after the fighting broke out and fought his damnedest to keep the islands under Japanese control when the Americans returned.  His efforts were rewarded with a missing leg and discharge papers.

And now, with the war over and foreign forces in Japan, he found himself at a loss for what was to come next. There military didn’t exist anymore, not that he could continue down that path anyway, but he had never planned for his future beyond his service.

Everything was changing, and he just longed for familiarity. He wondered if that’s what drew him down that particular street on that day. Tokyo was in shambles, but a few of the buildings had survived and he had to know if  _ that _ building was one of them.

From the distance he could tell that it was a bit worse for wear. Most of the top floor had collapsed in on itself and all of the windows were broken. The façade was dirty and scarred with scorch marks, but the bricks hadn’t completely crumbled. It might have been damaged, but the Greater East Asia Cultural Society was still there.

Sakuma shifted his weight onto his cane and knocked on the door, even though he knew nobody would be there to answer. It just seemed like the polite thing to do.  He pushed the door open after waiting an appropriate amount of time and hobbled his way in – he still wasn’t completely used to his prosthetic.

He’d fully intended on just looking and leaving quickly, but something just didn’t seem right. He ventured further into the building, taking careful, quiet steps. Most of the doors were wide open, probably from looting attempts, but there wouldn’t have been much to find. None of it was really suspicious.

The only thing that was suspicious was the conspicuously closed door that led into the meeting room. Sakuma wasn’t really in any position to defend himself from whoever was there, but he just had to know. He made his way to the door and swung it open.

“Well look who decided to show up…” a voice said, striking a familiar pang. He hadn’t heard it in so long, but he still remembered.

Sakuma scanned the room, surprised to see almost all of D-Agency sitting there. Tazaki, Amari, and Hatano were seated at the table, Jitsui was at the window, alternating between looking outside and watching the door, and Fukumoto was leaning against a chair.  Kaminaga was against the wall, messing with a matchbook but not lighting the cigarette in his mouth.

“What brings you here, Sakuma-san?” Amari asked, sounding all too casual for the situation.

Something about it annoyed Sakuma. Sure, he knew most of them had been sent overseas during the war, away from the battles and hardships, but surely there could have been some compassion for those that had to stay? Still, a more logical part of his mind reminded him that it was their  _ job _ , so he couldn’t really blame them. “I was…in the neighborhood,” he finally responded, lamely, not sure what exactly to say, “What are you all doing here?”

“Yuuki told us all to meet here when the war was over,” Fukumoto answered, “this was the safest chance for us to all gather.” He pulled out a chair and motioned to Sakuma, “Please sit down, it must hurt a lot to drag around that leg.”

He didn’t even bother asking how they would know. Instead he took the seat, placing his hat down on the table. He looked around the room, finally noticing that two people were missing. Odagiri wasn’t there, but he already knew the reason why. The other person, though…

“Is Miyoshi still on his way?”

A cold chill filled the room, and it felt like he’d stepped outside again. He saw that the windows weren’t open, so it wasn’t that, but the others seemed affected by it too.

Amari coughed, trying to diffuse the situation, “Don’t you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“I don’t think he knows,” Kaminaga interjected.

“Know what?”

The spies all looked at each other, as if silently debating who would be the one to say it.

Finally, Hatano bit the bullet, “Miyoshi’s dead.”

Suddenly, the chill felt all too real. It reminded him of swallowing ice, nauseating and slightly numbing. His hands felt clammy, and the color drained from his face. “What?”

“We thought you would have known, you hadn’t been deployed yet. You were still working for us in at least some capacity.”

“When?”

“About five years ago.”

Five years. Miyoshi had been dead for five years, and Sakuma had been none the wiser. That would have been in 1940, a year after the night they’d spent together.

When he had lost his leg, the first thing Sakuma thought of was that night. He wondered if Miyoshi would still want him when he returned home, or if he would have thought Sakuma was less of a man. He thought about the promise he’d made not to die and how Miyoshi didn’t even need to think about it, because he could survive everything.

But there was a reversal of fortunes, and Sakuma had been the one to make it out alive. Miyoshi had been the one to break a promise he didn’t actually bother making.

It made him feel sick.

“What happened? Was he–”

“It was an accident,” Jitsui interrupted, “There was a train collision and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all Yuuki told any of us.”

He wanted to argue, because that  _ couldn’t _ have been the only thing Yuuki said on the matter. If he was going to be so vague, why would he even tell any of them at all? It just didn’t make any sense, there had to be more to the story. Maybe Miyoshi had actually faked his death and the train collision had been some kind of cover up? Or they had forgotten some of the details?

Just as he started to say something on the matter though, the door opened and shut once again. Standing there was the Lieutenant Colonel, looking as if he hadn’t aged a day (which just irritated Sakuma  _ even more _ ).

They regarded each other coolly. Sakuma waited for him to say something first, because there was no way Yuuki was going to kick him out. He was going to find the answers he wanted, even if it meant sitting there and staring him down.

But Yuuki seemed unaffected by his tactics. Instead the corner of his mouth turned up and he mumbled quietly under his breath, “I knew you would find your way here.” He made his way over to the head of the table without even bothering to wait for a reaction. He put down his hat and leaned his cane against the wall before sitting and indicating for those that were still standing to do the same.

The remaining spies took their usual places at the table. Kaminaga finally lit his cigarette, and Tazaki and Fukumoto followed suit. It was then that Sakuma realized that he was sitting in what was supposed to be Miyoshi’s seat, and that made the sickness boil in his stomach.

He couldn’t really bother with following the conversation that went on around him after that. There were a lot of things being tossed around that he didn’t even want to think about, like the dismantling of the Imperial Army and the current occupation; even with his previous discharge from the military, those things still weighed heavily on his mind. Words like “restructuring” and “uninvolved” were tossed around along with phrases like “business as usual”, which in retrospect, would have made more sense if he had bothered to pay attention.

“Sakuma-san…Sakuma-san!”

Sakuma was pulled out of his train of thought by the sound of his name and Hatano snapping his fingers in front of his face. He scowled and batted the hand away.

Hatano just rolled his eyes, “Are you going to help us or what? There’s a lot of paperwork downstairs that we need to dispose of.”

“Paperwork…?” At that point he realized that he should have at least paid some consideration to the conversation. He didn’t have any idea what was going on, but still, he nodded.  “Right, paperwork. Let me just stand up.”

Once he was finally up and standing properly, he followed the rest of the men out the door and down the hallway. Yuuki led them over to a wall near the kitchen, pushing it in just the right away to reveal a hidden door with a staircase. From there they went down into a cramped, dark, slightly damp basement. Not only was Sakuma surprised that these things existed to begin with, but he highly doubted any kind of paperwork could survive in a place so wet.

Jitsui pushed passed him and knelt down to feel around on the floor. It became obvious that he found what he was looking for when he heard a series of clicks, followed by the loud  **_krank_ ** of a metal door opening.

Amari lit some of the low hanging candles, just barely illuminating the room.

With the light, Sakuma could see that what Jitsui had opened was a secret compartment in the floor. Inside were a number of large, locked boxes. When one of the boxes was pulled out from the compartment, Fukumoto changed places with Jitsui and began working on the lock.

_“So, they each only know one piece of the puzzle?_ ” Sakuma thought to himself, barely wondering if all of it was just for show. What were they supposed to do if one of them got caught? Or if one of them wasn’t around to do their part?

Did Miyoshi have a role in all of this?

The box popped open with a final click. Inside were a number of mostly plain envelopes.

Fukumoto placed it on top of a table, “Everyone, please take the envelope with your name on it. We’ll destroy this information first before moving onto the others.” He pulled the first one off the top and dug out another two. He handed them to Sakuma, “You have one too. Can we trust you to also handle Odagiri and Miyoshi’s?”

“What are these?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tazaki clapped his back, “it’s not important anymore.” He took his own envelope from the box, and for a split second, Sakuma could almost read one of the characters on it.

He wasn’t given a chance to answer before everyone else around him was moving, either grabbing an envelope from the box or moving to some other corner of the basement. He could hear quiet ripping noises and the occasional click of a lighter.

With that in mind, he made his way towards an unoccupied area. He opened the top envelope, which had his full name written in small letters on the bottom right corner. He was immediately greeted with a file detailing his  _ entire life story _ , even details that he didn’t think he had ever shared. It suddenly became clear to him why D-Agency was making a point to destroy the contents of the box.  Of course, he didn’t know what point there was to having it all written down in the first place (Because didn’t that scream security risk? Unless it was supposed to maintain the image that this really was a cultural society.), but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He quickly shoved the information back into the envelope and flicked on his lighter, taking the time to spread the flame evenly across the bottom so it would burn the entire thing. He followed suit with what he assumed was Odagiri’s information.

He was about to do the same with Miyoshi’s, but suddenly curiosity got the better of him.

_ “Akimitsu.” _

Even years later, moments from that night would continually pop up in Sakuma’s head, but right then one in particular stood out.

_ Miyoshi tossed the rest of his cigarette out the window, “You said you wanted me to call you by your first name, so you might as well call me by my real name,” he said it again for emphasis, “it’s Akimitsu.” _

Sakuma knew he shouldn’t, he really did. He just had to know though. He looked at the front of the envelope and focused on the corner.

Masanobu Akimitsu.

It felt absolutely chilling to stare down at that name, almost akin to digging up someone’s grave and looking at their corpse. It felt forbidden, prying, and yet he just wanted to know more. He wanted to open it up and read every last little bit of information inside.

Sakuma stopped himself before he could do that though. For all he knew, it probably wasn’t even Miyoshi’s file. It could have been Odagiri’s and he just mixed them up while taking them from Fukumoto. Miyoshi’s information could have already been gone.

_ “Why would Miyoshi use Odagiri’s real name, though?” _ he asked himself,  _ “If he really wanted to keep it a secret, he would have used a different one _ .”

And then he did what had to be the dumbest thing he had ever done up to that point. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and when he noted that nobody was looking at him, he opened the envelope and grabbed whatever papers he could. He folded them up and stuck them into the inside pocket of his overcoat, before burning what was left and what he couldn’t fit.

Alongside D-Agency, he wound up going through an immeasurable number of papers. Most of them had been former candidates that hadn’t made the final cut, some of them were contacts who needed their identities protected. Sakuma wasn’t sure who they were hiding this information from, but he still felt the gravity of the situation.

When they finished, there were four boxes left that apparently only Miyoshi and Odagiri had the combinations to. They were handed off to Fukumoto and Hatano, who were instructed to throw them into the nearest river and make sure they sunk to the bottom.

It was dark outside when they made their way out of the basement. As the spies all went their separate ways, Yuuki put a hand on Sakuma’s shoulder.

“I know your military pension isn’t much, especially now, “ he said simply, “that’s why I’m going to give you an opportunity. If you’re willing to work, you know where to find us.”

Later that night, Sakuma pulled the folded papers out of his jacket. He contemplated them for a second, before putting them in his desk drawer. He just wasn’t ready yet.

The next morning, Sakuma once again made his way to the Greater East Asia Cultural Society.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Now we're getting into things a little more. I wrote this chapter before episode 12 came out, so I was super vague with Odagiri. 
> 
> Also I totally forgot to thank namaikii last chapter for beta-ing this monstrosity. Whoops.


	3. March 1946

Even months after the fact, Sakuma still wasn’t exactly sure what this “restructured” D-Agency did. He didn’t know if it was because he didn’t pay much attention during that first conversation all those months ago, or if they just didn’t want him privy to the information. They still disappeared one-by-one for days at a time, but it seemed like their missions weren’t as long. Or maybe he was still tuning it all out.

In the long run though, he didn’t really want to get involved. His job with them had turned out to be much more administrative and focused around keeping their headquarters running smoothly. He felt like a glorified secretary, but the pay was better than the meager amount he’d been living on since he was discharged.

So, he let himself fall into a nice routine. He would get up, get ready, go to work, maybe go out afterwards if he was forced to, and then he would go home. All the time in between was just spent trying not to think of other things, like the papers he still had in his desk.

He considered taking them out often, almost every night in fact. Miyoshi and his untimely death never left his mind, and more than once there had been nightmares about trains and bodies left in pieces. Most of the time they just mixed with his bad dreams about the war.

It wasn’t until March when he finally got the courage to actually look at the documents. He had to psyche himself up a bit, and wound up drinking a lot more than he usually would have when Tazaki asked him to go out to the bar that night. He was tipsy and anxious, but knew he had to take the opportunity while it was there.

A photograph slid out from between the papers, landing face down. He slid it off to the side, unable to look at it at that moment.

The first page had contained the most basic of information. Miyoshi’s real name was Masanobu Akimitsu after all, so he had been telling the truth that night. Something about that felt like a relief. He was born in Izunagaoka, in the Shizuoka Prefecture (which felt both oddly fitting, but very wrong at the same time) on October 5, 1918.

That last fact surprised Sakuma the most. He’d always figured that the two of them were closer in age, because Miyoshi looked much older, but there was a six year gap between the two of them. It made him question how old the other spies might be.

He sat back in his chair and did the math. If Miyoshi (it felt too strange to think of him as anything else) was born in 1918, then that meant that he was 19 when he joined D-Agency, almost 21 when he left, and 22 when he died. He was still just a kid and that was probably the saddest part, he still had a lot left to do.

The rest of the page had information that Sakuma didn’t care too much about, stuff like height, weight, blood type, and various physical stats. There was no university listed in the appropriate spot or current employer, so he still had no idea  _ what  _ Miyoshi did before D-Agency.

The second page had much more interesting information. Listed on it were Miyoshi’s direct family members. His father, Masanobu Eikei, was already listed as deceased (along with a strange mark next to his name), but it appeared that his mother was still alive, along with two older brothers and an older sister. Along with that came a slew of other information, mostly about their ryokan, his sister’s education, and his brothers’ military backgrounds. Obviously, it was almost ten years out of date, but it still took up most of the pages he had saved.

The information was clearly collected as a background check, but he wondered if it was also in case something happened during training. If something had happened to Miyoshi before he became a spy, would his family have been informed? On that note though, he also wondered if they were ever informed about his death. It wasn’t like there was a cover to be blown anymore.

He thought of his own mother, and how upset she was when he came home injured, but still alive. Miyoshi’s mother might not have had that opportunity, she might not even have her son’s ashes (wherever they might be, since he still had no idea where Miyoshi had been undercover), she could still be waiting for her son to come home.

She didn’t deserve to go through that.

So, he made another dumb decision, trumping the previous “dumbest thing he had ever done up to that point”. He decided that he was going to meet Miyoshi’s family in Izunagaoka.

* * *

Deciding on a dumb plan and actually executing it were two completely different things apparently. First he had to figure out how he was getting from Point A to Point B, which was easy enough, but then he had to figure out a cover story. Taking a vacation at that time seemed a bit out of the ordinary.

“You know everything’s probably still in shambles there, right?”

Sakuma didn’t have a moment to process who exactly was talking to him before the pamphlet (old, outdated, and falling apart) was snatched out of his hand. When he looked up, he wasn’t exactly surprised.

Hatano leaned up against his desk, looking through the pamphlet, “Where did you even get this anyway? It looks  _ ancient _ .”

“I found it,” he muttered, not daring to say it had been in a pile of trash outside the library. He made a grab for it and missed, “What does it matter, anyway? Maybe I’m just curious.”

“Maybe you’re just a terrible liar,” Hatano, the little brat, kept the pamphlet just out of reach, “I  _ do _ have to wonder what’s so fascinating about the Izu Peninsula, though. You don’t strike me as a hot spring person, especially since any place open is probably servicing American soldiers.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?”

That made Sakuma pause, which was probably a huge mistake. “Obsessed with who?” he finally asked, mentally scolding himself for not phrasing it in a way that would give him the power in the conversation.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. You seemed very affected when you found out about the accident, and all of us could have sworn you two could barely tolerate each other.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, this is in no way related to Miyoshi. I’m just looking for a change of scenery once things settle down a little more.”

Hatano scoffed in a way that said he didn’t believe a single word coming out of Sakuma’s mouth. He tossed the pamphlet back onto the desk and stood up straight, “You’re not going to be satisfied with what you find out. You already know more than you’re supposed to so you should just drop it while you’re ahead.”

He put the pamphlet back into his desk drawer, annoyed with both Hatano’s attitude and how flustered he was over it, “And how would you know?”

“I know a  _ lot _ of things, and the others do too. We just let you get away with a lot of things so you can think you’re sneaky,” he gave Sakuma a knowing look, and it was clear what he was referring to. “I can give you what you want, for a price of course.”

“This isn’t about getting information.” He got up from his seat and made his way over to the file cabinet. He pulled an envelope out and shoved it into Hatano’s hands. “But, if you want to gather information so much, you can go on your next assignment.”

Even though Hatano took the paperwork without an argument, Sakuma knew their conversation would come back to bite him in the ass someday.

* * *

Looking back on it years down the line, he wondered how different things would have been if he’d tried to get information from Hatano.

He’d spent the next few weeks after that conversation agonizing over the details. He wondered if he could have at least found out where Miyoshi died, or what the nature of his accident had been.

“A train collision” had just been so vague, and he found himself asking himself morbid questions. Had Miyoshi been thrown from the train? Was he crushed under metal? Impaled? Each and every one haunted his dreams, his mind finding creative ways of making Miyoshi suffer.

And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe Hatano had a point about him being obsessed. It wasn’t like they were lovers, or that they ever would have become so. The two of them had just spent a night together, and left it on the hanging implication that maybe it would happen again when they reunited. It was just physical, no matter how intimate things had turned.

But in the end, he knew any information from Hatano would come with a cost and he just wasn’t willing to stoop that low.

So he decided he was just going to have to lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izunagaoka is a former town on the Izu Peninsula, it was merged with Nirayama and Ohito to create the city of Izunokuni in 2005. The more you know. 
> 
> While parts of the Izu Peninsula are known for onsen, I thought it'd be kind of cool if Miyoshi was descended from ryokan owners. 
> 
> Also in case anybody missed it on tumblr, I'm running Joker Game discord now. We wanna do some rewatches and other cool things once we get more members: https://discord.gg/rR9YGyf


	4. July 1946

Sakuma wasn’t sure if he was getting better at the investigating thing, or if the citizens of Izunagaoka were just friendlier than the ones in Tokyo. Finding out where the Masanobu family’s ryokan was located had been surprisingly easy – the family was moderately well known in the area and they had worked with many of the smaller businesses.

“I wonder if they’ve reopened…” the woman he was talking to vaguely wondered, probably directing the question to her husband, “a few places have since the end of the war.”

Her husband shook his head, “I think they closed some time before that. Things weren’t really the same after the husband died.”

“I could have sworn, though…”

As fascinating as the conversation might have been, Sakuma knew he couldn’t really waste his time with their debate. He quickly thanked them and bid his goodbyes before making his way down the road.

When he finally managed to find the building, it was like walking into a ghost town. Where the plants weren’t dead, they were overgrown and crawling in places they probably shouldn’t have been. The walkway was broken down and the stones were dangerously cracked, so anybody could fall if they weren’t paying attention. Most of the doors and windows appeared to be shuttered, but all in all the building was in better condition than he’d expected.

He scanned the area and found a part of the building that wasn’t completely closed off. Figuring this to be the family’s living quarters, he made his way up the walkway and knocked loudly on the door.

A minute passed by, maybe two, he debated knocking again or just leaving. Before he could give the matter anymore thought, the door shimmied open.

The woman who stood there was too young to be Miyoshi’s mother, so he assumed that it was his sister. She barely resembled Miyoshi in any way, but her age (she had to have been in her early 40’s) and gender could have skewed that. Even so, her nose was flatter and her skin was darker, the only things that really matched between the two were their hair color and wavy bangs that fell to the side.

“Can I help you?” she asked suspiciously, with a familiar sharpness but even that seemed completely different. Miyoshi’s voice had wafted with a sense of ego and pride, but his sister’s tone was chilling and a bit more than mildly irritated.

Sakuma cleared his throat, “Are you Masanobu Ine?”

“I am.”

And it was then that Sakuma realized that he really should have practiced what he was going to say, because thinking about it and actually doing it were two different things. He’d been a fool to think it was going to be easy, and now he was going to have to wing it.  “My name is Sakuma Ryuunosuke, I…have news about your brother, Akimitsu.”

Ine visibly paled at the mention of Miyoshi’s name. She nodded and shuffled out of the way, “Please, come inside.”

He didn’t get to see much of their living quarters, but from the entranceway through the hall, he noticed that most the furniture was covered with a fine layer of dust. Ine led him into a small room with tatami mats and the family’s butsudan. From his seat on the floor, he noticed that there were four pictures – including two men in military uniforms.

So everyone was gone, and only Ine was left; that just made him feel worse.

But at the same time, something seemed strange.

When Ine returned to the room with tea and settled across from him, things were far too quiet. He’d thought things would have gone differently, that he would be talking to two people who could support each other afterwards, instead of one woman.

“How did you know Aki, Sakuma-san?” she asked, breaking the silence. Her gaze was fixed and cool, and it was then that he could see shadows of a familial resemblance.

The time had come to put his meager skills to the test.

“We worked together for a short period before the war, but lost touch before I was shipped out for military duty.”

“Is it common for military men to do work outside of the army?” she was actually  _ testing _ him, he definitely knew right then and there where Miyoshi got it from.

“We had a contract with the company he was employed with, I acted mostly as a liaison”

“What kind of company?”

“Translation,” he answered quickly, probably way too fast, “Mi-…I mean, Masanobu-kun was great with languages. He helped us out with quite a few projects.”

Ine hummed, seemingly accepting the answer. She took a sip from her cup, “Forgive me for my rudeness.”

“It’s quite alright.” It seemed like his plan was working so far, so he was going to ride it out as long as he could, “I actually tried to contact him after I was sent home, just to check on him and see if he’d be interested in a business venture. I was shocked to find out that he’d passed away.”

“Was he—”

“No, he wasn’t drafted. His co-workers told me he had been in an accident visiting a foreign client. With everything else going on, no one was able to collect his body.”

She nodded, “Yes, I understand. There are certain things that take priority during wartime. My brother, Hatsuo’s, remains were never sent back either.”

“I deeply apologize,” he bowed slightly, and kept his head down, “Masanobu-kun never mentioned anything about his family, so I had a feeling you weren’t informed.”

“Yes, well, we weren’t a very integral part of Akimitsu’s life, Sakuma-san. I was already 14-years-old by the time he was born, and our other two brothers had no interest in him.”

“It can be tough being the baby sometimes, I understand,” he nodded towards the pictures, “after all, the three of you were closer in age. You even look very similar. Did Masanobu-kun take after another relative?”

Ine looked at the photos, then back at him. She adjusted her hands in her lap, before finally giving in, “Aki was only our  _ half- _ brother, Sakuma-san. The result of an ongoing affair between my mother and one of our regular guests.”

That made his stomach drop, it also explained why there had been a mark next to Miyoshi’s “father’s” name in his file. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Ine continued – her voice straining and cracking.

“It wasn’t like he  _ chose  _ to be born that way, obviously, but our father was just so cruel to him. If Aki ever misbehaved, he would go on for  _ hours _ about how lucky he was that he was allowed to use our family name and how he could have just been thrown away at any point,” she sniffled, “Hatsuo and Ippei just excluded him from their games, but they never went so out of their way to hurt him. I wa—” she choked, trying so hard to keep her composure. “I wanted so badly to defend Aki, but what was I supposed to do? He was my  _ father _ , and I was always sent into the city for school – of course I couldn’t be there for him.

“I thought I could apologize, I thought there would be time after… _ but then he ran away _ ,” her body shook now, tears streaming down her eyes, “he didn’t even tell us anything, we just woke up one morning and Aki was gone.”

That much obviously hadn’t been in Miyoshi’s file. Although, to be fair, a lot had been lost, the only thing he really had was his family history. He wished he could have saved everything from being destroyed, maybe it would have saved Ine some of the pain she was going through. If he had known of the troubles in the Masanobu family, he wouldn’t have had to bother her with maybes and what ifs that had stuck with her.

As her body wracked with sobs that she tried so hard to stifle, he asked himself if he’d made a mistake coming there.

Eventually Ine calmed down, she gently dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Forgive me, Sakuma-san. I usually try not to think of Aki because it’s such a sore subject, I lost my composure.”

“It’s perfectly alright, I can understand why you’re upset.”

“My mother and I spent years thinking he would come home one day. Even when she died last year, I couldn’t imagine moving somewhere else, just in case.” She folded the handkerchief and tucked it away, “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? I spent his entire life being a terrible sibling, but I’m mourning him like we had a stronger relationship. It’s no use trying to make up for lost time.”

“I’m sure he understood.” He waited a second before continuing, “If you don’t mind, Masanobu-san, I have a few questions. How old was your brother when he ran away from home?”

“He had just started high school that spring, so he was almost 16. Why do you ask?”

“He just always seemed like he led an interesting life before coming to work with us, I’ve always been kind of curious.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit, studying him. He wondered if he’d gone too far or crossed some kind of line. “Is that really all, Sakuma-san?”

Sakuma nodded, “Of course, I mean…he was quite smart, he had to have picked that up somewhere. I always thought he’d gone to the best schools for that kind of education.”

Ine’s expression didn’t change, and she kept her eye on him as she lifted her cup again. “I’m sorry to say he didn’t, Sakuma-san. My father wasn’t willing to pay for that kind of luxury for a son that wasn’t truly his own. He was lucky he even got to go at all.”

“I see…”

More questions sat on the tip of Sakuma’s tongue. He wanted to pry whatever details he could out of Miyoshi’s sister. What had he been like as a child? Did he have a favorite food? He wondered if she knew any details about the man who had actually fathered Miyoshi.

But, it all would have been too much to ask, especially from someone who was just a work colleague. Ine was visibly wary of him now, and there was no way he could get the information without blowing his cover.

_ “ _ My _ cover? What do  _ I _ have to cover? I have to protect  _ Miyoshi’s _ cover,” _ he mentally corrected himself. What did he have to hide? She already knew he was in the military, and it wasn’t like she’d make any assumptions about the relationship he had with Miyoshi.

Correction.

Didn’t have.

He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Thankfully, the time to bid his goodbyes had come sooner rather than later. He tried to reassure himself that the information he had was  _ enough _ and he could finally put whatever feelings he had to bed. He told himself there was no way to find out anything more, and there really wasn’t a need to. Miyoshi’s family had been informed and he’d learned a little bit about him along the way. It was fine to leave things the way they were.

Before he walked out the door, Ine grabbed onto the sleeve of his blazer, “Wait…Sakuma-san.”

He turned to face her.

“We…I only have pictures of Aki from when he was much younger. Is…is it possible you have a more recent picture?”

And at that moment, Sakuma thought of the picture that was currently in his inside pocket. It had been from Miyoshi’s file, folded amongst the papers he’d saved. He suspected it was from when he first applied and it was the only one in the bunch. It had taken him a few days to actually look at it the first time, but after that he found himself carrying it around.

He told himself it was to remind him of his self-imposed mission, but that was probably a huge lie. He also told himself that he was bringing it on his trip so that he could give it to Miyoshi’s family so they could put it on their butsudan.

But the minute Ine asked for it, all of a sudden he couldn’t bear to let it go. “ _ She at least  _ has _ other pictures of Miyoshi, _ ” he thought bitterly, “ _ I only have this one. She even said they weren’t close growing up. Why should I give it up now? _ ”

So he gently shook her hand away, “No, I’m sorry,” he lied,  “I wasn’t the one to clean out his apartment, so I don’t have any. If I find someone who does, I’ll be sure to mail it to you.”

Ine frowned, but still nodded. He couldn’t really place the look on her face, but it fell somewhere between heartbreak and acceptance, “Thank you, Sakuma-san.”

He had to leave in a hurry before he changed his mind about the photograph.

* * *

It  _ should _ have been enough after that. He constantly tried to remind himself of that on the train ride back to Tokyo. He’d confirmed Miyoshi’s real name and informed his surviving family about his death, he even got some new information and a memento out of it all. For all intents and purposes, he should have been done.

But Sakuma couldn’t let any of it go, the new questions just hung over his head like a specter. Had Miyoshi known anything about his biological father? Did he have another reason for running away? Just what had he done in the three years before joining D-Agency? Each one wrapped around his mind like vines, weighing him down.

And yet, he still couldn’t understand why he cared so much.

When he finally returned home, he vaguely considered placing Miyoshi’s photo in a spare frame. He didn’t have a butsudan, his apartment was far too small for that, but it would have been a nice memorial.

Instead he put it back in his desk drawer, and scolded himself for not giving it to Ine, who would have shown it some respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy exposition drop, Batman. But hey, she's shocked and people tend to drop shit when they're off guard. 
> 
> I like to imagine Ine was just as sassy as Miyoshi before life beat her down. Granted she probably had to keep herself pretty reserved, but when it came out, hoo boy.


	5. September and November 1946

Sakuma had been all too surprised when Fukumoto suddenly placed a tray of food in front of him, covering the papers scattered across his desk. He whipped his head up to look at him and opened his mouth to ask, but Fukumoto spoke first.

“You’ve lost weight,” he explained, expression neutral, “and we can’t have you fainting on the job.”

Something about the way he said it made Sakuma unsure if the action was truly about just keeping him in working condition, or if there was some general concern behind it too. Just a few months ago he would have argued that he was fine, but at that moment he felt himself too tired to even try. So, he just nodded and picked up his chopsticks and the bowl of rice on the tray, “Thank you.”

Fukumoto just nodded, but didn’t walk away. Instead, he picked up one of the stacks of paper on Sakuma’s desk and looked through it. It wasn’t anything too important, just some expense reports he’d doctored up in case someone tried peeking through their records, and it probably helped to have a second set of eyes look them over.

Neither one of them said anything as Sakuma ate the meal. It felt nice to eat something that wasn’t quickly thrown together and even though he was starting to feel full halfway through, he still finished it all. Only then did it occur to him that maybe he wasn’t taking the best care of himself. He’d put off sleeping and eating properly and thrown himself in his work, figuring it the right kind of distraction from things he didn’t want to think about.

He thought the conversation would start up again once he was done, but Fukumoto continued to look through the pages. When  _ he  _ decided he was done, he placed the stack back in its former place on the desk. “You’ve gotten better,” he stated simply.

“I still don’t really understand the point to all of this.”

“You’ll know when you need to.” 

“I really doubt that.” 

“Yuuki won’t be around forever.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Fukumoto seemed to drop the subject, moving onto one of the folders on the desk - this one filled with mock applications for new members. It was almost as if he had only come over to check his work. “How did Masanobu-san take the news?” 

At first Sakuma almost tried to hide it, and come up with a new lie for what what he had done, but Sakuma was just so tired. There really wasn’t anything worth doing that for anymore, “Not well.” 

“Did you at least find what you were looking for?” 

He felt transparent and just a little bit attacked. Still, he shook his head and answered, “No, I didn’t.” When Fukumoto didn’t respond, he continued, “Did Hatano say something?” 

“He didn’t have to. You did the right thing not taking his bait though,” he put the folder back down. 

“I doubt he actually knew anything helpful.” 

“He knows someone that does.” 

Sakuma’s stomach dropped at that. There was that silent implication, that tacked on “and I know too.” Once again he was put in a position where maybe, possibly all the answers could be laid out for him, but with a cost he might not be able to pay. It wasn’t that he was unsure if he wanted them, because after everything he had been through, in such a short time, all he wanted was to know. The only difference was that with Hatano, it was to figure out the score, but with Fukumoto… 

Well, not so much. 

Still, he leaned over and lowered his voice, “What do I have to do?” 

Fukumoto seemed to understand. He went into his pocket and handed it to Sakuma, “Odagiri.” 

And suddenly, it became all too clear why he was so forthcoming.   
  
Sakuma unfolded the paper and looked over the information scribbled on it. It wasn’t a lot, and he was surprised how quickly he had memorised it. He placed the paper in his ashtray and burned the edge with his lighter, “I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

Despite everything, Sakuma still had to wait to get the final piece of the puzzle. 

When he’d been given the initial information about D-Agency all those years ago (and it shocked him when he realized just how much time had passed) he had been informed that none of the candidates knew each other beforehand. Some had come from Imperial universities, others were children of ambassadors living overseas, a few were related to upper class families - their backgrounds were wide and varied, eliminating the risk of details being leaked. Yuuki had made it a point to find those who could be educated and blend in, and clearly had also had an additional ulterior motive of finding men who wouldn’t live and die for the Emperor. 

Whether or not Miyoshi and Kaminaga had actively hidden their relationship with each other was somewhat irrelevant. They had never been very forthright about their friendship, so someone looking from the outside wouldn’t be any the wiser. That was why it had never crossed Sakuma’s mind to ask any of the other spies if they really  _ did  _ know anything. Even with that tidbit, he couldn't bring himself to care much, he just wanted to know everything that might have happened before. 

Kaminaga had been away, somewhere in Europe, when Fukumoto told him. It made him wish that he actually bothered to read the files Yuuki passed onto him before Sakuma had to hand them off to whoever was available at the time. So he tried to occupy his mind with other things - like his constantly growing pile of work and Fukumoto’s request, even as more and more questions ate at him. 

When they finally did get a chance to talk, one windy night on the renovated roof of the Greater East Asia Cultural Society, it was like he had already been expecting it. 

They sat down, their backs leaning against Tazaki’s pigeon coop. Kaminaga offered him a cigarette, Sakuma handed him the lighter when he realized he was out of matches. 

“I don’t know everything,” Kaminaga started, “shocking, right?” 

“Everyone seems to think you do.” 

“I know enough,” Kaminaga stretched his arms in front of him, cracking his shoulders, “where do you want me to start?” 

“First you need to tell me how much all of this is gonna cost me.” 

He snorted, bemused, “Good. You’re learning. Let me think about that for a second.” He put the cigarette in his mouth and looked upward, smugly contemplating just exactly how he was going to be a pain in Sakuma’s side. 

No matter what, it would be a small price to pay for all of this to finally be put to bed. 

A beat passed and for just a second, although it felt longer, Kaminaga’s face twitched. Something sad crossed his eyes and there was almost a hint of a frown, but the mask was back before any of it could even register. “Actually,” he finally said, “I think I’m going to give you this one for free.” 

Sakuma knew not to push his luck or even ask, so he just nodded, “When did you meet?” 

“I’d just entered university, so I think he was...seventeen? Maybe sixteen. He didn’t look like a high-school kid, I just assumed he belonged there,” he tapped ash onto the ground, “I think he was sneaking into classes.” 

“I thought he was older too.” 

“It’s that face, when he actually smiled he would look totally different. I only found out a few months later because he needed a place to stay and I offered.” 

“Did you two—” 

“Oh, no. It wasn’t like that,” Kaminaga cut him off, a little too quickly, “I mean, maybe if...but no. Nobu-kun,” he shook his head and quickly corrected himself, “ _ Miyoshi _ , he seemed like he had a rough time and he said he had left home, so I guess I just felt bad? I wanted to do what I could.” 

“And you two got along.” 

“The string of fate might not have been red, but it was definitely there.” 

Sakuma nodded, shifting his weight and ignoring the way his prosthetic creaked. He considered all of that, trying to put together an image, even if he wanted to ignore what “a rough time” implied, Kaminaga didn’t seem to know anything about it. It wasn’t a full picture, but it was getting there, “Did he say why he ran away?”

“He was looking for someone. You know who. I think he always knew exactly who it was, it was just figuring out how to get to him,” Kaminaga shrugged, “And then D-Agency just happened to fall into his lap. I kind of figured it out on my own, and I wasn’t going to let him have all the fun by himself.”

The revelation hit Sakuma like a ton of bricks. He whipped his head around. “Wait, are you implying that—” 

“Ah, ah,” Kaminaga interrupted, putting out the butt of his cigarette, “ _ that _ is going to cost you, and you don’t have nearly enough to cover it.” 

“But…” he wanted to needle for more, he really did, but let it go with a sigh, “So you joined for that? Talk about throwing caution to the wind.” 

“Hm, I guess...I don’t regret a single second though. In the end, I don’t think Miyoshi did either.” He stood back up, brushing off his pants, “Does that answer everything, Sakuma-san?” 

He thought everything over, considering the details brought to him. It was as if he was looking at a painting with only broad strokes, it wasn’t pretty and it didn’t have the finer details that could maybe humanize it, but it still gave him a picture. Maybe he didn’t know everything, there probably wouldn’t be a way he ever would, but the basics were there. Somehow it felt like just enough. For the first time in almost a year, he didn’t feel something nagging at the back of his brain or a weight perched on his shoulders.

But all at once, he just still had to ask, “Do you think things could have been different?”

Despite the vagueness of it all, Kaminaga sounded absolutely sure, “I do.” 

* * *

For once Sakuma didn’t go directly home after work, so it was quite late by the time he did walk through the door. His body felt light with the few drinks he had had in the hours before and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed so he could enjoy his first good night’s sleep in months.

Before doing that, though, he dug through the desk drawer and pulled out the photo, leaning it against the wall as a reminder to pick up a frame and some incense the next afternoon. It still hurt, just a little, but with the uncertainty gone it didn’t hang like a specter in his head. 

Miyoshi probably would have thought the whole thing was pointless, the past was supposed to stay in the past for a reason. He went through a lot to keep it hidden and Sakuma had gone out of his way to tear that apart. Still, it made  _ him _ feel whole and that was exactly what he needed. Maybe it just opened the door to something bigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A twist that shocks nobody *extends leggy*
> 
> Someone had mentioned on tumblr that they headcanoned Miyoshi as Yuuki's son, and my brain was like "yes, I want that headcanon too" and that's mostly why this blew up past the first two chapters. Originally it was just gonna be Sakuma and Miyoshi boning and then Sakuma's little heart being broken.


	6. August 1939

Sakuma wasn’t exactly sure if it was the heat of the moment or just the “Akimitsu” character coming out in full force, but Miyoshi seemed much more pliant the second time around.

After pulling away to ask for another chance, Miyoshi had placed his hands on either side of his face and kissed him again. His fingers traced along along his jaw, memorizing every edge and curve. “Okay,” he sighed against his lips, “just one more time. Please take me, Ryuunosuke-san.”

It sent a shiver down Sakuma’s spine to hear his name in that tone, especially considering who it came from. He led Miyoshi back to the futon and guided him into his lap, gliding his hands over the tight muscles in his stomach. He took his time there before moving up, drinking in everything, Miyoshi really _was_ beautiful, but he wondered if it would break the illusion if he actually admitted it out loud. One of his fingernails flicked against a nipple and when Miyoshi tried to stifle himself, he pressed harder, “No. I want to hear it.”

Miyoshi gasped, jaw dropping and eyes fluttering closed. He arched his back and tipped his head, “More…”

Sakuma nipped at his pulsepoint, pressing his tongue against each fresh mark as he went along. He rolled Miyoshi’s nipple between his fingers, occasionally tugging just a little too hard. It was amazing, watching Miyoshi fall apart under his hands, even if it was just a one-man-play that would be over by the end of that night. Each and every sound sent tingles through his body and it was hard to resist reaching for more.

Eventually, Miyoshi rolled his hips down and when their erections brushed, it was obvious just how hard they’d both gotten. Miyoshi reached down, gripping loosely at Sakuma as he moved his hand, “Come on,” he whined with a croak, “I need it, please.”

He pulled away to get a better look and...Miyoshi was a _wreck_.

His eyes dialated to the point where they could be mistaken for black and a red flush spread across his neck and chest. His jaw hung open as he panted, stopping once to swallow thickly. Precum leaked from the tip of his cock, smearing against his stomach when he shifted in Sakuma’s lap.

This. This is what he wanted.

Sakuma laughed a bit as he leaned back in, placing another sucking kiss against Miyoshi’s neck and adding to the marks he’d already made in such a short amount of time. “Ask for it properly, Akimitsu,” he ground out.

“But…”

“For me? I just want to hear it. I like it when you say my name.”

The muscles in Miyoshi’s legs tensed, but he didn’t seem to pull away. In fact, he let out a noise that, coming from anybody else. would have been mistaken for a whimper. His grip tightened, “Please fuck me, Ryuunosuke-san.”

He groaned and pulled Miyoshi closer, just enough so he could stroke both of them. He trailed his own hands down Miyoshi’s back to roughly grab at his ass. Two fingers from his right hand slid in between, catching the rim. “Do you need more? You’re still loose,” he asked as he thrusted shallowly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what, it’s okay,” Miyoshi leaned back experimentally, rocking up and down, “A little more would help though.” He used his free hand to feel along the futon before finding the jar.

“I’ll go slow this time,” he started as he scooped a helping out.

“No, don’t. I just—ah!” Miyoshi moaned as Sakuma pressed three fingers in all at once, obviously hitting a pleasurable spot, “You call that slow?”

“Do you want me to—”

“Don’t you dare. Oh god, harder,” he buried his face in the crook of Sakuma’s neck, rolling his hips back to meet each thrust. His hand had stopped moving and made its way over to Sakuma’s hip for leverage. He let out a long, drawn out noise, “There, right there.”

His dragged his fingers inside of Miyoshi, focusing on that one spot he seemed to like. “Here? That feels good?” He could feel Miyoshi nodding against him, moaning too much to actually vocalize anything. He pressed his fingers harder, moving them in small circles. Somewhere in the haze of his mind Sakuma heard his name repeated over and over, the rhythm matching the beat of his heart.

The spell was only broken when Miyoshi tensed, and for a second Sakuma thought he’d actually hurt him. When he felt the warm spurts against his stomach and erection though, he felt his chest swell with that earlier pride.

He pulled his fingers out and patted his thighs, “Are you okay?” he asked, and when Miyoshi nodded, he did too, “Good. Because I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re only going to see stars.”

Miyoshi pulled away, looking just a bit put out, “You’re killing me.”

Sakuma snorted and gave him a quick peck, because a real kiss would have been too distracting. “Get on your back and spread your legs.”

He expected more of a protest, but Miyoshi was completely compliant. He had already been a mess when they started and now he looked completely debauched. There was no way he could play off what had transpired now, with dark purple bruises blooming on his hips and stark red bite marks on his neck. It made him look completely owned, entirely Sakuma’s, and the thought made his dick twitch.

“You’re beautiful,” he accidentally let slip and he braced himself for that usual Miyoshi snip.

But he forgot this wasn’t Miyoshi, this was _Akimitsu_ and apparently that wasn’t in his character. So instead he averted his eyes, cheeks stained red. “Thank you.”

Sakuma scooted between Miyoshi’s legs, his left hand steady as he guided himself inside. His right hand reached for Miyoshi’s left, lacing their fingers together.

Miyoshi sighed as they finally came together before pulling Sakuma down by his shoulder so they were face to face. “Slow?” he asked.

Sakuma hummed, “Slow. I want to remember this. I want _you_ to remember this.”

“Kiss me?”

There wasn’t a chance he could say no to that.

The second time around was so much better than the first. Sakuma couldn’t tell if it was because they had some idea of each other’s bodies or because they weren’t fighting for dominance. It gave him the chance to treat Miyoshi like he actually would a lover and actually drink in the sights in front of him - like the way his fingers tightened when Sakuma tilted a certain way, the soft kisses placed against his jaw, and the small wince when Miyoshi came for a _third_ time that night.

He groaned as he made one last thrust, pressing in all the way as he emptied himself inside Miyoshi. He let himself flop to the side, and even though the logical part of his brain told him they needed to clean up, his muscles ached far too much to move anymore.

Miyoshi moved closer, pressed against Sakuma’s side with his hand low on Sakuma’s stomach, “You made me such a mess,” he said, but it didn’t sound like much of a complaint, as his index finger traced along his abs.

“I did,” he agreed, placing a kiss to Miyoshi’s temple, sticky with sweat, “It looks good on you.”

That _did_ make Miyoshi roll his eyes, but he still didn’t say anything. His finger circled around Sakuma’s belly button, “You better not even think of dying in Manchuria, Sakuma-san.”

“Why? Are we doing this again?”

“Maybe, I still need to get back at you. I can’t let you think you’re the dominant one.”

“I’ll do my best, then.”

“And I’ll be waiting right here when you get back,” Miyoshi replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand it's done.

**Author's Note:**

> So like...I actually started this right after Episode 11 but it got totally out of hand and wound up ballooning to 13k/38 pages and I got stuck around two-thirds of the way. Kill me. 
> 
> A lot of this is self indulgent and it's not *really* a mystery, but more Sakuma not knowing how to mourn and learning a little bit along the way. Like, it's gonna be a lot more stuff implied than actually said. 
> 
> Don't worry though, it's all done so I'm probs posting a chapter a day.


End file.
